


halfway around the diamond

by cykelops



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Uncanny X-Men (2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cykelops/pseuds/cykelops
Summary: A breath of fresh air between missions.





	halfway around the diamond

The wind pushed seafoam around her ankles, salt and sand like starlight in her black hair. The water was the same blue color as the cloudless sky as far as the horizon line. Close to the edge of her vision fat bulbs —jellyfish— caught the shine of the sun through the surface of the water. 

The fresh ocean air filled her lungs. She dug her toes into the warm sand. It was pure white, impossibly clean, guarded by rock cliffs at either side of the beach and miles away from the nearest big city. Even the cries of birds kept their distance. 

They had spilled blood on the alabaster stairs leading up to the big house. Two stories, all in white but for the round mosaic of color that was the attic window. It was a modern structure, sleek with sharp edges and jutting balconies. There was an infinite pool, useless when the sea was more inviting. Blood had sprayed across the French doors and the hardwood floor. It could be cleaned, it could feel like home for someone again. Someone better than the people they'd killed. 

“This is a place, isn't it?” She mused out loud. 

“That's the correct noun to describe it, yes.” 

Betsy rolled her eyes. From his tone and his place on the beach, propped up in a couch, she knew he wasn't in a bad mood. Just a teasing mood, equally insufferable. 

When the fight had been over Betsy had looked across the back of the house and decided it was a waste to jump back in the Blackbird and return to their base in the Savage Lands. Monet beat her to suggesting they stay the night, and with her at the helm it became all weekend. There were enough rooms and food. They’d had one victory against the terrigen mist and were overdue some reward. They disposed of the bodies. The blood was easy to step around. The ocean air was good for Archangel… She liked to think it helped.

She had picked out her bathing suit and come out here to enjoy a swim. Erik had appeared after her, book in hand and similarly underdressed. He was quieter than Victor and Monet inside the house, which made him tolerable company. 

Her necklace began to move in waves. It rippled around her neck, dragon charm raised. The dragon spun slowly around the chain and tugged at her gently, urging her attention over her shoulder. Even weakened by death Erik did not need to raise a hand to manipulate so small a piece of metal. His eyes, usually glowing from the use of his mutation, remained the same shade of grey. She followed the light pull of magnetism at her leisure. Erik had set up shop on a quaint little space intended for relaxation in the center of the beach. White fabric fluttered from the poles holding up a roof over his head. Betsy tracked sand onto the polished tile and pulled up next to Erik where he was sitting up with his legs outstretched. 

“I don't like it when you do that.” She told him, tugging the necklace between her thumb and forefinger, it fell limp in her grip. She rested with her hands on her hips and one knee up on the couch, touching the side of Erik’s leg. “How would you like it if I did that with my powers?” 

Erik put the book down, his eyes brimmed with delight. He smiled with one side of his mouth and paused only the second it took for Betsy not to stop him before he circled the back of her thigh with his fingers. 

“How would I like it if you made carefree use of your powers for mundanities of daily life?” 

He rubbed at the tan line from one of her uniform straps with his thumb. He had a good point there. Erik wanted a world where mutants were free to use their powers as easily as their hands or their wits. He would probably be happy if Betsy wrapped a construct around his neck for a joke. Or other pastime. She shook her leg lightheartedly. 

“Alright, I get it. I'll use a tie and no powers next time you wear a suit.”

“Ah-ah.” He gestured with his fingers around his Adam’s apple. “I only wear bowties, my dear.” 

Betsy shoved at him and smacked off his hand. She straddled him smoothly and sat back on his lap with her arms over his shoulders. 

“I know literally every way to strangle a man and you're pushing me to try all of them.” She declared with no shortage of annoyance in her voice. 

He trusted her to ensure no one would look out from the house and see them this way. He sat up straighter, his hands returned to the sides of her thighs and worried at the identical lines on each one with curious insistence. 

“Tempting, Elizabeth.” Erik said appeasingly. “But losing my voice would detract from my efforts in warning you you ought to wear sunscreen in this heat.”

“That's what you called me over here for?” Betsy scoffed. The tan lines he seemed interested on weren't even from today, they were old as her uniform, surely permanent. “I get those on the job.”

“Oh, I was talking about the ones on your chest from the cut of that top, but one usually works up to that base, as they say.” 

His face was painfully casual as he said that,  like it wasn't the most ridiculous thing in the world to hear Magneto talk about second base. Betsy surprised herself with a snort. It was one of those things that got to her about the long stretches of inactivity between her missions, interacting with Magneto as if he were just another teammate and not a long-time nemesis and egotist. He was… very human, sometimes, and he would resent the use of the word to describe him.

It was easy to fool around with him. Doubly touch starved and accustomed to flings while waiting on the sidelines for their one true love to return. They didn't talk about Warren, or… Rogue? Xavier? She didn't ask. He was charming, infuriatingly so, and pretty in a rugged, fine-wine way. He was measured and kind off the field, when it was just the two of them and a breath of silence. It was rare, but it was comfortable. He understood her in ways that frightened her, but mostly in ways that made moments like these easier. 

She readjusted herself on his lap and grabbed at one of the hands on her thighs. She slipped his fingers under the strap of her top, he didn't need a diagram to figure out where to touch her. He cupped her breast under the soft kiss of fabric, his hands were predictably callused, but he moved like someone used to causing pain now vehemently avoiding it. 

It wasn't like he hadn't touched her before, in far more intimate places, but it was different somehow. Maybe it was the laughter, or the scenery, or just the sheer silliness of it, but it was good. Better than good. Betsy touched her nose to his and closed her eyes. 

“Is this what you do in all those strategy meetings?” Monet chaffed. 

They ripped apart so fast the knots at Betsy’s nape and back came undone. She threw her legs over the side of the couch and her top fell onto the floor. Victor was coming down the stairs and getting closer faster. Overcome with a terribly mistimed bout of chivalry, Erik wrapped his arm over her chest in an attempt to secure her modesty. Betsy was half convinced he did it because this way certain parts of his anatomy were not facing Monet. 

Erik cleared his throat. He spoke to Monet over his shoulder without actually looking at her. 

“Elizabeth had some concerns about her heart’s condition. I was offering my service to her as an MRI.” said the man with his bicep holding Betsy’s breasts against her chest. Betsy slapped her palm against her face.

“Pretty sure that was her right boob.” Monet pointed out. She looked like her usual self-satisfied self, but there was more. She was adamantly resisting the urge to burst out laughing. Part of her couldn't believe what she had seen, she was maybe even a little upset she hadn't noticed anything sooner.

“Then she must have been incredibly confused." Erik said, mortified. 

Victor picked that moment to ascend beside Monet. He threw a handful of popcorn into his mouth and took a look around before speaking through the crumbs. 

“We touchin’ boobs? That don't seem like a fair team bonding exercise. Pretty sure Archangel isn't into boobs... Or can't be.” That last part had just occurred to him. He appeared to pity it. It was the last straw. 

“Everybody out!”

Betsy blocked them out telepathically. It was never easy to keep Monet at a distance, and she had clearly failed with Erik to distract her, but she managed it this time with clear intent. She breathed a sigh of relief when they disappeared from her vision and slumped against Erik’s body.

“I am not everybody?” His dark skin was twinged with a bit of red on the high points of his cheeks. He was not impervious to embarrassment. Betsy’s cheeks dimpled reluctantly in a smile. She pulled his arm off her chest and urged him to lie down. She didn't bother to retrieve her top from the floor before resting on top of him.

No, he wasn't just everybody, and with all the talk of boobs and Victor (and Archangel, her mind whispered, _specially_ Archangel) she wasn't willing to go through any more bases tonight. 

But Erik would hold her, pet her, and speak to her in his unfairly warm voice and she would feel alright, even if just for an hour. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love this ship and I was challenged to write this. I love comments and check them religiously so tell me what you thought if you want !!


End file.
